


Questions

by yet_intrepid



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gen, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:50:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ragnar asks Athelstan again what souls are, and conversation spirals. (Set in episode three, between the drinking scene and the visit to the earl.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by tumblr user some-stars.

“Priest.”

Athelstan stopped abruptly, water from the two buckets he carried sloshing onto his robes, and dropped his head in acknowledgment of Ragnar’s approach. Ragnar fell into step with him as they walked to the house.

“The Christians,” Ragnar said, “what are their souls?”

Athelstan put the buckets down against the side of the house and took in a deep breath in a futile attempt to clear his throbbing head. Any number of his brothers at the monastery had had the habit of overindulging in drink, but it was a vice to which he had never been tempted until his mind became full of memories to escape—screams echoing in silence, Brother Cynewulf’s corpse against his shoulder, the crucifix cracking under blows of a heathen axe. But since he was unused to alcohol, the aftereffects of last night’s drink were strong.

“All men—all people—have souls,” he said blearily. “Not only Christians.”

Ragnar leaned a little closer. “So! You say I have a soul? Then I need to know what it is. Hm? And why does it need saving?”

“The soul is the spiritual part of us, which lasts.” Athelstan rested one shoulder against the outer wall of the house, nervously hoping that his concession to exhaustion would not be perceived as disrespectful. “It lives beyond death. The soul is separated from God by sin, and that is why it needs to be saved. So that after death, we can eventually reach Heaven.”

“Heaven, that is the place of reward with your God.”

“Yes.”

“In our Valhalla, we feast and drink and train for battle. In your Heaven…”

“All is peace and worship.” He bit his lip, unsure of how Ragnar would react to his words. Why did the man care in the first place? But no, he could not wonder right now; he could only keep himself safe by obedience to both God and his master so far as he could, and right now that meant answering. “The swords have been beaten into plows; the streets are of gold. A river flows through the city, from the throne of God, and there is a great tree which produces fruit in every season. God gives his people crowns, and they cast them down before his feet in honor, and forever sing of his power and holiness.”

Ragnar let out a disbelieving breath. “You are rewarded with treasure, and you give it back.”

Athelstan tensed a little, not sure if he was being mocked. “Yes.”

“You _walk_ upon the gold.”

“Yes.”

“…is there so much?” Ragnar’s eyes glinted. “So much treasure that you do not want it anymore?”

He hesitated. “It is not that,” he said. “God himself is—God himself satisfies the soul, when we are free of the sins of greed and selfishness. That is why in Heaven, no one clings to the treasure. It would be a sin to want something else besides God, and in Heaven there is no more sin.”

“You always talk about this _sin._ ”

“Because I must always try to keep myself from committing it. Sin prevents us from receiving grace, and without grace we are cut off from God and Heaven. And since I have no one to whom to confess my sins…”

Athelstan swallowed. Drunkenness was a form of gluttony. It was a mortal sin. And here he was, cut off from confession, cut off from the Eucharist—

His only hope for grace was that God would see that he had no confessor and accept his simple prayers of repentance.

Ragnar was staring at him. “And what is sin?” he asked, curiously, carelessly.

Athelstan closed his eyes a second, forcing himself to face the enormity of the question instead of his own bleak situation. “Sin is evil. It is anything which is not right, anything which God would not do. It is anything that goes against his laws and his character.”

“And do you always know what your God would do? What if you have done something he would not, but you do not know he would not do it?”

_You have your Odin, and I have mine._ “It’s not like that. God does not change. We know his character through the holy Scriptures. The Scriptures and the Church teach us how not to sin, and we must obey.”

Ragnar leaned back against the house himself, staring out. “That is why you brought the book,” he said, the last word obviously strange on his tongue. “So that you will not sin and will go to Heaven. That is why it is a treasure to you.”

_And because it is a comfort, a connection to God and to all that I have lost in being taken by you._ Athelstan’s lips tightened. _It is a treasure because it was created with time and effort and devotion and love; it is a treasure simply because it is knowledge of God, not because of how I might profit from that knowledge. It is a treasure because those like it were destroyed when you burned my home, the sanctuary of God—_

“Yes,” he said flatly. “That is why I want it.”

“But you said it was a sin to want treasure.”

“Not if you want it because it will bring you to God. Not if you want it because you want God, instead of wanting it besides him or instead of him.” Athelstan was beginning to doubt his powers of explanation, and his headache was only growing worse. “It is a sin if you are being greedy, covetous, selfish.”

“The treasures that do not help you learn about your God, then,” Ragnar said, turning to look at Athelstan, coming uncomfortably close. “Why do you keep them, priest? Why would you care if they are taken?”

His breath came quicker at once, horror and indignation at the raid flooding him. _Restraint,_ he urged himself. _Caution. Answer the question obediently and truthfully, and have done._ “They are not ours.” He did his best to keep his voice steady. “They were given to God and are holy unto him; they are merely used by the Church, which represents God on earth.”

“If they are his, why doesn’t he protect them?”

Athelstan heard the question, but he couldn’t frame an answer, because in his mind it took on another form:

_If you are his, why doesn’t he protect you?_

A thousand answers leapt to his mind (you are being punished for your sins; you have a purpose here; you are still alive and that is itself a miracle; my ways are not your ways nor my thoughts your thoughts; all things work together for good) and yet the question remained. Ragnar made a quiet scoffing noise.

“Is he too weak, then?”

And before Athelstan could respond, Ragnar had disappeared into the house.


End file.
